


Walk a Mile in My Shoes

by danwriteskink



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: BDSM, F/F, Foot Fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-02
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 09:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/502004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danwriteskink/pseuds/danwriteskink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlotte wants to get to know Helen; Helen has some ideas about how to make that happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walk a Mile in My Shoes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: _Helen Magnus/Charlotte Benoit: forced nudity (except for high heels)_

Charlotte isn't used to shoes with heels. She's much more comfortable in hiking boots, or depending on the location, bare feet. She sits on Helen's bed, naked, and looks at the dainty white boots in trepidation.

"I doubt I can walk in those," she starts, but falls silent at Helen's raised eyebrow. 

"As if you had been given a choice in the matter." Helen kneels on the carpet and cups Charlotte's heel. "I've lost count of the blisters and turned ankles I've suffered thanks to the requirement of fashion over the years. I think you can bear it for an hour or so." She slips the boot onto Charlotte's foot and pulls it into position. 

It's ever so slightly too small. Charlotte winces as her toes bunch into the narrow points. If the shoes pinch this much now, while she's seated, Charlotte can only imagine they'll be agony within moments of standing.

"So, it's a kind of revenge, watching me in pain?" Saying this is as much of a turn-on as the expression of cruel anticipation on Helen's face. 

"Something like that," says Helen. She gives the heel of the boot a sharp rap and it slides completely home against Charlotte's foot. Her palm lingers on Charlotte's calf, tracing the soft skin up to the back of her knee. "Now, more correctly, you ought to be wearing stockings, but I'm prepared to make some sacrifices for visual appeal." 

Charlotte laughs, then stops suddenly. Helen has a tool in her hand, long and silver with a mean looking hook. Charlotte scoots back on the bed in alarm. She doesn't know what that thing is for, but it's not going anywhere near her body. They haven't negotiated anything like that. Yet.

Helen catches her ankle, and pulls her back to the edge of the bed. "It's a button hook, you silly girl. I'm not going to violate you with it." She smiles, a wicked smile, and twirls the hook. "I've got much better things for that. Later."

She works the button hook with practised ease, closing the boots and pulling them tight. They work rather like a corset, Charlotte thinks, as they squeeze her ankle close and make her calves curve outwards like the small of a woman's back. She's used to thinking of her feet as unfeminine, so often are they covered in mosquito bites or shoved into dirty socks and mud-crusted hiking boot. Now, even though her toes are going numb, her feet look elegant and dainty. Ladies' feet. She ought to feel bad about that, she thinks. She's a feminist; this doesn't seem right. She doesn't care, though. The way Helen is looking at her makes her feel desirable and precious. 

"There now," says Helen, pulling the last loop over the last button. "Up on your feet, now, if you please." Her outstretched hands mean that it's an order.

Charlotte hauls herself unsteadily upright, and cries out as her bodyweight crushes her toes together. "They hurt!" 

"Yes," says Helen, and leads her forward a step. "But they look wonderful, and isn't that the point? Come along." 

Charlotte totters towards the door, struggling to keep her balance, unable to stop the little noises of pain as she moves. 

Helen reaches out, and tips up Charlotte's chin. "Stand up straight, please. Or I've a book we can place on your head to teach you better." 

Charlotte whimpers, and takes another step. She's forgotten that she's naked, that there might be someone in Helen's sitting room, or in the corridor outside that. All she can do is focus on Helen's face, try to keep her back straight and take tiny, painful steps across the carpet. It seems like an expanse of space that she will never cross. 

At the doorway, Helen pauses, slides a hand over Charlotte's belly, and down between her legs. Charlotte gasps, leans into the touch, pain forgotten for a moment. Just as she's starting to think that Helen will let her come, it stops. 

Helen touches a finger to Charlotte's lips, slick and salty. "Poise, my dear. I won't have improper behaviour, not when you're walking in my boots."


End file.
